


Twinly Troubling

by Enchantedtalisman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Fluff, Harry Potter Raises Himself, M/M, Potion Master Harry Potter, Rating May Change, Time Travel, another WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23522869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantedtalisman/pseuds/Enchantedtalisman
Summary: Seasons aren't usually so important in most magic anymore. Not because of some greater advanced, or forgetting of the ways; but most Wixen don't have covens anymore that need to create large magical con-fluxes to deal with the Mundanes. If there are any covens out there, they probably spend more time making magical hidey-holes for themselves and their community.(Harry likes to think that he, Hermione, and Ron would be a coven if the other two were still alive.)
Relationships: Harry Potter/Fred Weasley/George Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enablers on discord don't help my muse but actively encourage him to make me write more. One day I will sit down and finish all my wips. One day. When I don't feel fatigued even after sleeping four to ten hours.
> 
> Enjoy~

Seasons aren't usually so important in most magic anymore. Not because of some greater advanced, or forgetting of the ways; but most Wixen don't have covens anymore that need to create large magical con-fluxes to deal with the Mundanes. If there are any covens out there, they probably spend more time making magical hidey-holes for themselves and their community.

(Harry likes to think that he, Hermione, and Ron would be a coven if the other two were still alive.)

Seasons _are_ still important in deep magic, heavy magics, emotional magics. Perhaps that's why Harry picked this particular one. He's a rather emotional person, even after learning occlumency, he still has a temper that is supposedly as legendary as his mother, and he's learned to laugh much easier like his father and Sirius, at his guess anyway.

_This_ particular magic being a potion, boiled and stirred carefully in different seasons, Winter for stillness, Summer for growth and speed, Fall for well--Harry bites back a smile, falling backwards.

Oh, how Snape would hate how Harry creates his potions--but then Harry has never been a man that can make things through precise motions or ingredients--that's _Hermione_ , but he can make things out of pure emotion. And the ingredients, those are rather important to potion-making.

And now on the full moon, a year after Harry's hair-brained scheme emerged, a day after getting his potions Mastery (two years before Snape, Harry thinks viciously pleased), he has made the most potente potion of them all.

"Time to drink," Harry murmurs and then doesn't bother grabbing a cup, just putting his hand in the cooling potion and drinking it down from the source. Instantly he feels heavy, and yet oddly cold. The world around Harry seems to slow down to a crawl.

Magic swirls around him in vibrant colors from blues to reds to silvers to yellows.

Before Harry's eyes the world fades out like a spotty television. He falls backwards and swears his body is growing and twisting inside and out even though there is no pain.

  
  


When Harry returns to his senses everything sort of hurts. An ache in his stomach makes it self known and he doesn't have much of a chance to really _look_ anywhere except the ground, where he pukes a majority of the neon yellow potion out. With a grimace, Harry runs a hand across his mouth and with the other summons his wand from his pocket.

A few spells later, and Harry knows several things.

One, his body isn't in any danger of total organ failure.

Two, his potion isn't poisoning him slowly.

Three, he's in the past.

The grin on his face is unbearably wide, and Harry doesn't care an ounce about that. All he cares about is that he's _back._ Of course not as far as he had _wanted_. Harry grimaces at the tempus still hovering in front of him. "Nineteen Ninety Five, fifteen years too bloody late." He still has hope, this is before Hermione and Ron die.

Before most of the Weasley's. Before Sirius. Hell, before Harry sort of loses it and goes on a Death Eater rampage.

Not an ideal time, but not a necessarily _bad_ time either. Harry would just have to deal with a few complications.

First he decided to check if his supplies, other than his wand, had survived the trip.

Potions, food, water, a magically expanded bag to carry it all in. His notebooks full of potions recipes, and of course his mothers, and his favorite cauldron(s). He even had a few books though he wasn't a voracious reader like Hermione, it left him feeling closer to her. It's also why he had a chess set that while he was no expert, certainly had helped him learn to be somewhat decent at the game.

With Gringotts half destroyed, Harry hadn't bothered trying to empty his vaults--if the Goblins would have even allowed it, but he had taken a decent sum of money, enough for potion ingredients (if his potions he had taken with him hadn't survived), and for a meager living arraignment in the magical world.

Everything checked off, Harry takes a deep breath, looks around the rather lackluster field he had picked in the future which is even more overgrown in the past somehow, and spins and _appirates away_.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Deciding on things to do isn't necessarily _hard_ \--there are so many ways to change the future. Even going back has probably effected the future in a way, Harry suspects.

It's making sure his family and the majority of the Wixen World survives without major damage that's difficult. Though, admittedly, Harry is doing this mostly for his family.

First Harry has to make an actual persona.

Name, bloodline, birth certificates which would be harder to fake but attaching his bloodline to an existing family line should get that sorted. The Wixen world might not be great at the whole keeping track of people, but someone will notice if Harry doesn't make the proper adjustments.

Thankfully, a potion that survived the trip back will help in that matter. The Potter and Evans aren't _just_ connected by Lily and James ironically. Harry would have never known if it wasn't for a similar family tree in the Potter Family Vault he had found before.

It's not very close to either of them. the Evans that married into the Sur-Potter line are _barely_ related to Lily Evans. At least fifth cousins if not more. But they're magical and it's why when Harry takes the potion his hair goes a little redder, a more crimson-black rather than the Sur-Potter black. His eyes are a sharper green, and may have tweaked the potion so he could keep the essential Sur-Potter skin tone. Though his Evans freckles come through probably because he's leaning on the Evans tree more than the Sur-Potter.

Bloodline taken care of, Harry only has to wait for the notification of the Ministry recognizing his legitimacy as a Sur-Potter from his "dead father" and "dead mother". (Luckily the _British_ Ministry isn't so competent that they would notice a Fourth Class illegal (one of the lower classes of illegal items) bloodline potion if it shoved up their asses) He feels slightly guilty for taking a spot in the family that the two never had time to make, but they're hardly alive to complain in the first place.

Next, Harry has to figure out a name. "Harvey?" Harry asks the bathroom mirror of the Cheery Pegasus Inn he's staying at (a good several miles away from the Leaky Cauldron). He grimaces at that, no definitely not a Harvey. "Lily?" He laughs, it's a fitting name considering the Evans family is fond of that name, especially those of magical blood (he isn't sure if someone in Lily's family _knew_ she was going to not be a squib). But imagining a future boyfriend calling him _Lily_ is not something Harry wants, ever.

Looking around the room he's in, his eyes alight on a flower vase. They're not a familiar breed and Harry actually has to take out one of his books to figure out what it is.

Anthurium. "Anthurium Evans." Harry murmurs, and nods. "Anth Evans-Sur." It's not a bad name, and certainly brings to attention that he's an Evans. Not that an Evans outside of Lily had been to Hogwarts in half a century.

After that is done, Harr--Anth mulls over what to do next.

It's fairly tempting to go and gather up younger Harry from Hogwarts and start that whole struggle--though if he proves himself honest and a non-Death Eater he doubts Dumbledore will cause too much of a fuss. But, he _hasn't_ proven himself and certainly can't just barge in, it'll just add more problems.

Anth taps his wand against his lips, repaired with Beech would that had seamlessly been integrated into the cracks and wears of he Holly, and debates on other matters. A good starting point would to add to his business and start dealing with Voldemort. If the bastard was too busy dealing with Anth then the younger Harry would have less nightmares, and less cause to grow angry or do something reckless.

Which reminds Anth, he fiddles with his things until he can find a clean piece of parchment, quill (self inking, he really does miss Hermione and her inventions), and a book on Occlumency and Legilimency. The note is for Hermione and Harry, because Anth is very sure any type of resource that _isn't_ from a teacher or close friend will be highly suspect to the young witch. He sighs in nostalgia, he wonders if this time Hermione will learn to not trust authority figures just as slowly as his own.

Once the note is done, Anth transfigures his sculpted bird-messenger (a pygmy falcon carved by Charlie Weasley when the man realized Harry would never get another bird after Hedwig's death) to life-like form, and ties the message and books to it's leg. "Harry Potter." He gets a confused tilt, before he winces, perhaps his blood potion is still not done, "The _other_ Harry Potter." With a frustrated screech the falcon disappears out the window.

With that done Anth orders a daily prophet, a decent meal, and starts looking for business practices near Hogwarts. It might not be the best idea to get so close to the Castle so soon, but he can hardly leave Harry alone and without help, even if it's not exactly how he planned it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I will go back to not posting things right off the press, but also I do that with my original stories enough, fanfiction is for fun.
> 
> Comments saying positive things? Awesome.  
> Comments critiquing or demanding more? Not Awesome.
> 
> Enjoy <3

No reply, not even a letter from McGonagall about keeping away from her students, and Anth has no way of knowing if the message wasn't just burned. At least his falcon comes back to him without any damage. He spends an inordinate amount of time picking out the _perfect_ store front, and ends up making it closer to the Three Broom Sticks, it's a hefty sum but the traffic in that area will more than make up for it.

"Sign here, Mr. Evans." The wixen speaking is an older gentleman, Anth would guess nearer to the natural Wixen-majority of age, thirty, and seems pleasant enough.

Anth refrains from pointing out that the full usuage of his last name is unnecessary because it's _Wixen_. _Probably a pureblood_. Anth has heard that _most_ Wixen communities don't really have purebloods. Or at least not in the same way as Britian and the parts of America which had colonizers (before the Native Wixen had rightfully kicked them out). It's a little disappointing to know that even after the war the Pureblood ideology had been strong.

Signing with a flourish, Anth decides he will have to remedy some of it. Perhaps dose the school lunch with a few minor truth serums. Nothing as strong as Veritaserum, but enough to break down barriers. Maybe then Dumbledore would realize just how deep Voldemorts roots lay in the school.

Two weeks after Harry, or _Anth_ , had come back to the past, and;

"There you have it, your very own potions shop. Mighty fine thing really, that bastard up in the Castle never wants to sell his extras to us. Not like we all have time to hover over the more complicated potions, you are truly an essential need." Bradford, says taking back the signature and nodding at Harry. He hasn't admitted to being Mayor, saying there's no true owner of Hogsmead, he sure knows quite a bit about the feelings of those in the village. At least if his statements are true.

"Glad to be of service." Harry says neutrally. He can't speak for _this_ Snape, but he doesn't ever remember the man being kind or patient enough to help others. He would bet Madam Pomfrey hassled the man into giving her potions for the Hospital Wing.

With a cheery goodbye Bradford leaves Anth to his empty shop.

Not empty for long, Anth thinks, and gets to work, pulling out his wand and starting to spell things clean. It's not too bad, clearly Bradford or someone else keeps things relatively tidy, but Anth isn't one for just decent results anymore; decent results can kill, and he's learned they aren't worth it in the long run.

When that's done, and any potential hazards to his potion making are out of the way, Anth starts setting things up; while he doesn't have _many_ ingredients, he has enough to start opening this week, and possibly tomorrow.

The Forbidden Forest is right near the village too, and Anth thinks that he will be able to find an assortment of plants to take samplings of, and product. Which will allow him to cut costs for those who may need the extra help.

Satisfied with his continued survival, Anth takes a break to look towards the Castle. He still has the whole year to get Harry safely from the clutches of the Dursley's, though he is disappointed it had taken such a sharp turn in time, but at least he's here _now_. If he can at least save his younger self from that wretched woman's scarring quill, that will be something.

With a thoughtful look to the shrieking shack, Anth turns back into his shop. Potions are as versatile as Snape had once said and Anth knows a variable pool of them, he just has to find the best one for the situation. Perhaps a Nectar's Folly, it's not considered a light potion, but it certainly would fix things right up; especially when Dumbledore had done nothing to protect young Harry from harm.

  
  


Nectar's Folly takes a week to concoct, it's a slow brewing potion, and requires careful patience; after all it's all about giving the drinker what they believe is the truth and centered around those they find most disagreeable. Possibly why it's considered a dark potion, Anth certainly wouldn't use it on an ally. But needs must.

In the meantime Anth spends a majority of his time prepping the shop with strong spells to make sure his shelf of potions don't crack or mix into eachother; a separate area entirely for the ingredients with particular spells for cooling,warming, and stasis charms up.

The other half had been wandering the Forbidden Forest and seeing just how far he could get towards the Castle before he felt the Wards against his senses. To his surprise a lot closer than he thought he could, but still not close enough. He supposes he would have to use a bit more trickery to get in without notice from Dumbledore himself. Which would be much harder without the invisibility cloak which he had unfortunately lost during the war to Death Eater FiendFyre.

But not impossible. Anth has never had time for Animagus training but he has some of the potion supplies, and it can't be _that_ hard to find a book on the practice. His transfiguration isn't even half bad now that he has the pygmy falcon to transform on a almost weekly basis (apparently the Ministry isn't totally incompetent, they are rather aflutter that there's another Potter in the mix, Anth rather hopes he can meet Harry _before_ that gets to the Daily Prophet).

Settled in for the week, with dealing with the Nectar's Folly, Animagus training, and daily trips to the Forbidden Forest, and some minor shop keeping (it's relatively slow if Anth is being quite honest, but not surprising, a new shop means figuring out just how good the shop is), the days almost fly by.

  
  


Potion in hand, Anth has to decide if it's worth it to just enter the Castle with as many spells and charms he knows as backup. If Anth was still Harry, the Castle, in theory, should recognize him, but he's not. Which means he just has to hope the Castle Wards will let him in through pure intention alone.

And a bit of misdirection on the part of the Wards that tells the Headmaster he's in the Castle in the first place. It's a difficult bit of spellwork--The Founders were certainly great, but some of the Heads of the school were just as great, and they had added to the Founders works. Anth has to tweak a few Hiding spells on the spot, and really wishes he had thought of this sooner--but he's still rather surprised learning an Animagus form is so hard. Apparently the potion and theory only help so much.

The Hiding spells have to be just right, so the Castle knows Anth is no danger to the school or the children, but keep him from activating the Headmaster's notifications. A tricky bit of work and Anth spends far more time tweaking the spell rather than focusing on his (few) costumers that day.

It's late evening, almost dinner when Anth finally enters the Castle, the veil of spells a glimmering cloak around his body and he holds his breath when he takes the route through the Shrieking Shack to the school. (A bit difficult to get _into_ the Shrieking Shack but he does it)

Nothing pings against Anth's spells, they don't dissipate or cause a fuss.

It's about that moment he finds himself past the willow tree (an easy spell to make it not activate) and a quick quiet gait and he's in a throng of students that barely notice another in long black robes that could be any one of them. Another of Anth's layered hiding spells have the robes displaying the least interesting House to the students around him; a Hufflepuff who doesn't like speaking to Gryffindors will see Scarlet, a Slytherin who avoids Ravenclaws will see Bronze and Blue.

Anth gets all the way to the painting with the fruit and grins in triumph. Maybe things are changing for his Potter Luck.

  
  



End file.
